


Survivor's Guilt

by aika_max



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aika_max/pseuds/aika_max
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm also a survivor, and that's because of Blaise. The stupid git had saved my life…" After war, sometimes there's nothing left except the people you never expected to be there in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor's Guilt

I first noticed Blaise Zabini when I was seventeen years old.  
  
Don’t get me wrong.  We were both in the same year in Hogwarts and had been going there all along together.  I just never paid attention to who he was, and he never paid attention to me.  That’s the fun of being in separate houses.  
  
The War came to Hogwarts and divided us all more than the Sorting Hat could have ever done.  There’s a big difference between dead and alive.  It was then, at the end of the year, that I learned what survivor’s guilt was.  
  
I’m getting ahead of myself, of course.  This is about Blaise.  It turned out he wasn’t all bad, which flies in the very notion that Gryffindors have about Slytherins, but it’s true.  When everything started to go for the worst, some of them started to separate from the elitist agendas of the rest of their house mates.    
  
Truth be told, some of the “good” people in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw crossed over as well.  I shouldn’t be surprised at that because I had Scabbers all those years.  So being Gryffindor isn’t automatically a sign of good just as being Slytherin isn’t a sign of bad.  I know that now.  I’m a better man.  See?  
  
I’m also a survivor, and that’s because of Blaise.  The stupid git had saved my life, but that was after I’d already noticed him.  I’d turned eighteen in the spring of my last year at Hogwarts.  
  
I’d been made Head Boy, something Percy would have crowed about had he known.  He never did make it back to the family even though that was Mum’s last wish.  Zabini had also been given a leadership position in his house in hopes that he would be a good influence on the rest of them, unlike a particular blond with an exacting hate for Harry Potter.  Draco Malfoy, I can say now, wasn’t all bad, but he was his father’s toady.  Lucius schemed with a strong hand, even from Azkaban, and Draco never broke free from it.  
  
Zabini and I had patrols together.  It was something else about inter-house cooperation.  The bloke was tall like me, something I’ve rarely seen as I am one of the tallest people I know, and he wasn’t a bossy know-it-all like a certain other friend of mine.  I almost looked forward to patrols with him as a way to get away from the Harry and Hermione love fest.    
  
Those two started growing romantically closer in fifth year, but it wasn’t until our last year that we all knew they were a couple.  More power to them.  At least they went out in a blaze of glory together.  
  
Somehow along the year, I’d gained Slytherin friends.  Can you imagine that me, a Weasley, would actually have Slytherin friends?  It did happen, much to my chagrin, but really it was more like friendly acquaintances.  Several of them, including Blaise, started coming to Harry’s DA meetings.  I think it was more because of some solidarity of the Good because some of the others really did seem to have great defensive skills anyway and, therefore, had no need for extra training.  Some didn’t have a clue, but then again even Gryffindor has its share of Creeveys.  
  
Blaise became an unexpected friend.  In fact, I didn’t realize he was my friend until the ones I’d had my whole school life died.  You mean you hadn’t figured it out yet?  Harry and Hermione didn’t survive the last battle.  Harry defeated Voldemort, but he had to sacrifice himself to do it.  Hermione was a willing victim because she was constantly at his side near the end.  
  
That was the real game of war.  And I simply played chess.  Unlike many of them, I appreciated the beauty of the moves and the strategy.  I understood it, even, but no appreciation for that type of genius could make up for human loss.  
  
I had wanted to rush in with both barrels blazing, as Muggle gun fighters would say.  Instead, Zabini felled me with Petrificus Totalus, the dirty bastard.  Then he moved me out of harm’s way but where we could both see the battle.  
  
I saw Harry neutralize Voldemort.  He’d told me once about their wands and the strange reaction they’d had to each other.  The event I witnessed must have been like it, except with people.  Where there had been two, both began to crumble.  It wasn’t merely Good and Bad any more; it was a Nothing.  I swear watching them fight was like watching something cancel out as if it had never existed, or like one of those Arithmancy equations that Hermione loved so much.  
  
The two were gone into nonexistence in a flash of light that took out all that were in close proximity around them.  Blaise and I were far enough away to be free of it but close enough to witness it all.  When it’s our turn to die, it will have to be with different circumstances.  
  
After that was over, the War was over, but nothing ever felt right again.  Some philosopher or wordsmith said it was harder on those left behind, and I know from personal experience that it’s true.  We just carry on anyway because that’s what we do.  
  
I had Blaise, though, and that was strange.  We’d become close friends and were almost inseparable after the War.  On the other hand, it was almost logical.  I’d become friends with Hermione during first year after similar circumstances, and that last battle was much more devastating than fighting a mountain troll.    
  
I think the complete and utter devastation of the War was the very reason I stayed with Blaise.  I was looking for comfort from someone, anyone, who really knew me.  With the majority of my family and friends gone, there were few options.  
  
When we became more than friends, I was fundamentally stunned.  I’d never been a poofter in my life or given a thought to other blokes.  It just wasn’t me.  For all I know, if Blaise leaves me or dies, it won’t ever be me again.  I fell for another human being, and damn it if that other human didn’t have the same gene structure as I did!  
  
The nightmares were what caused it all to change.  I’d been invited over to what was left of his crumbling mansion, and I’d fallen asleep in one of his guest rooms.  As soon as sleep came, so did the minions of pain in the form of memories.  I must have been noisy because Blaise woke me.  
  
He was comforting me with a soothing voice and gentle strokes as one does to a child.  Unthinkingly, I’m sure, he kissed my temple also like one does to children, but that made me freeze.  At least Blaise had the decency to look as shocked as I felt.  He backed away and left me to my nightmares and my loneliness.  
  
Yes, it was awkward seeing him after that.  It would have been an awkward “morning after” anyway, even if he’d been a girl I liked.  I decided I just didn’t want to throw away the only good friend I still had because underneath all my fears was a deep-seated feeling of loneliness and isolation I couldn’t ignore.  Blaise knew that, and friends help each other cope.  
  
That’s what he is first.  My friend.  He’s more than that now, as you well know, but we’ve had time to change and grow and get used to that idea.  It still surprises me sometimes, but I assure myself that love is strange no matter what form it takes.  Even for me, and even for Blaise Zabini.  
  



End file.
